Dang it. I woke up too early

The problem with waking up too early is that it could be the most productive part of my day, but no. I have spent hours reading blogs on my favorite musicians web-sites. Today I enjoyed Death Cab's. I loved Nick's idea that there should be a new show with Jennifer Aniston called Friend. Did I mention that season 10 comes out this week? Not that I have seasons 5 through 9, I just like the idea of the fruition or completion that it brings to Media Play or Circuit City.
My other really important thought is about my hair. Sorry Adam, I am 125% girl. I imagine that I think about my hair as much as some people think about their cars or computers or their jobs or something. Not that I love my hair, oh no no no no no. I mean, it's fine (not in texture), I just mean that I don't spend this amount of time vainly thinking about how great it is. No. I spend this amount of time thinking how I can make it better. Or in todays case, acceptable. Two nights ago I bleached it. I do this all the time with mixed to positive results. Not this time. It's yellow. Like how Jack-thinks-blonde-hair-is-yellow yellow. Luckily the lower half is still blonde. Makes a statement I think. The statement being that I couldn't be bothered to apparently TRY and make it look regular. And regular is basically my goal in life for my hair. So after two days with baby chick color, I am freakishly liking it. Helen Hunt (of Team America fame) dyed her hair for the movie Pay It Forward. She played a poor, white-trash woman with yellow hair. She said that after living with it for a few months she forgot what normal was and started to think that this new color was hot. And that maybe she would keep it up after the movie.
Luckily for her, Helen has people like Paul Mitchell (the actual guy) or Oribe (add italic) or Sally Frersherberrrrr (Meg Ryan's shag making lady) to bring her back to her lovely natural (looking) shade and basically smack the white-trashness out of her. It's infectious. Like country music. Let a little in and and it (country music, bad dye jobs) will take root and weed out all of your better instincts (college, indie bands, colors God meant for you to have on your head).
My other thought about hair is this: How come you can always feel that one extra long hair touching the back of your arm? Sometimes it is only hanging down and inch or two past your actual length, yet you know it's a dead stray, not attatched! (Ok, so this topic deserves no exclamation points, apparently just a lot of parenthesis) This stray hair can drive you mad. You look- no hair. You grab and grab- no hair. Then an hour later you feel it again. It's so annoying. And this is soooo not interesting, except to maybe Kirsten. I guess pandering to one third of my audience isn't too bad. Also. How does hair "sew" itself into any and all fabric? I studied fashion design and production which included a healthy understanding of all kinds of weaves and construction methods, yet this one is a mystery.
Also a mystery? Why I would even put this into print. Oh yeah, I woke up too early. There is a very good reason I should always stay in bed until nine.